


Valentine's Day at Baker Street

by rlu1



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Red Pants, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:05:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3211898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rlu1/pseuds/rlu1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was Valentine's Day at Baker Street and Mrs. Hudson was expecting a row to erupt at 221B. Doctor John Watson (grey-haired, gentle-faced former military man) had not had a date in goodness knows how long. Today was no exception. Therefore, considering that it was February 14th, it was inevitable that he would be very cranky indeed. Short but sweet Johnlock one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valentine's Day at Baker Street

Hello amazing people! This very short one-shot was written for a Valentine's card exchange I participated in last year. Since it's getting to be that time of the year again, I figured I would share it with all of you. Enjoy!

\---------

_It was Valentine's Day at Baker Street…_

…and Mrs. Hudson was expecting a row to erupt at 221B. Doctor John Watson (grey-haired, gentle-faced former military man) had not had a date in goodness knows how long. Today was no exception. Therefore, considering that it was February 14th, it was inevitable that he would be very cranky indeed. And said crankiness would drive the doctor's flatmate Mister Sherlock Holmes (curly-haired, blue-eyed consulting detective) up the wall; for Sherlock Holmes had always thought that Valentines was a silly, foolish, and absolutely nonsensical occasion inspired by a cold-hearted capitalist market as a means of taking money from the unintelligent and weak.

Sure enough, Mrs. Hudson had barely set the kettle on for her morning cup of tea when a great crashing (as of furniture tumbling and feet stamping) erupted from the flat in question. And then came the bellowing baritone of Sherlock, "DON'T BE RIDICULOUS, JOHN! I WILL NOT PUT THEM ON! I WILL NOT I WILL NOT I WILL NOT! WHY DO YOU WANT ME TO PUT THEM ON?!"

Next the stern voice of John Watson. "IF YOU PUT THEM ON, YOU KNOW WHAT I WILL DO, SHERLOCK?! YOU KNOW WHAT I WILL DO?!"

And the foundations of the building all but trembled when Sherlock erupted with a defiant and menacing, "WHAT?!"

Mrs. Hudson braced herself for still more yelling and crashing. But instead, and very suddenly, music filled the air. Music coming from 221B. Beautiful, gentle, sweet music. Piano chords, harp strings, and flute tunes. Calm and relaxing. And, just like that, Sherlock and John's yelling and banging ceased.

Well, the poor landlady was quite flummoxed by this sudden change in events. She hurried up to 221B to make sure that everything was okay and that the two sillies had not gone and killed one another in the course of their domestic. The door to 221B was open just a smidgen and Mrs. Hudson made for it with the full intention of giving a real scolding. But one glimpse into the flat and she brought a hand to her mouth to stifle a squeal of delight, hurrying back down the stairs faster than a speeding bullet and quieter than a little mouse; for, in the quick glimpse that she had seen of the living room, it appeared that John Watson may just have a Valentine date after all.

The floor of the flat was truly a mess. There was freshly torn wrapping paper with the words "To Sherlock, From John" written in bold letters. There were also two piles of clothes hastily thrown in both corners of the room, one of jeans and cream jumper, the other of purple dress shirt and black dress pants. In the middle of the room stood Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, dancing together, their arms tightly entwined as they swayed gently to the sweet sweet music. Did I mention that they were wearing nothing but red pants? Well, it's true…very true indeed. John's red pants were of inexpensive cotton, faded from many washings but striking on his form all the same. And Sherlock's pants…Sherlock's were blood red in colour, of the most luxurious silk, and very clearly had only recently been torn from wrapping paper (a tiny sliver of tape and wrapping paper still clung to the back of them, accentuated by Sherlock's very plump right arse cheek).

"So every time I wear these pants, you will dance with me?" Sherlock finally asked, his ice blue eyes sparkling down at his flatmate.

John flushed slightly and looked away with a small smile. "Would you like that?"

"Yes."

The answer was blunt and certain in tone and, when John saw the excited look on the detective's face, he couldn't help but chuckle out, "Hmm…you and your love of dance. Looks like I am exploiting your weakness."

"Not at all, John. Not even close," Sherlock replied, raising an eyebrow, leaning forward ever so slightly, and giving the doctor a very serious look. "In fact…" A pause and a nervous bite of his lip, then, "In fact, you are allowing me to embrace my strength."

Well, now John could feel Sherlock's warm breath and, oh dear, his heart was racing far faster than he cared to admit. He swallowed quickly before daring to ask the detective, "And…what…what exactly is your strength?"

"You, of course, John. Us. Us together. Just the two of us against the rest of the world." And Sherlock Holmes captured a beaming John Watson in their first of many Valentines kisses.

_The End_


End file.
